I had a first experience in the ribbon aisle at Michael's yesterday, and am not sure if I handled it correctly. Please read and evaluate. In our community group, we have been discussing what it means to understand our words and actions through the filter of our heart motivations. Not sure what this interaction said about my heart...
I am shopping at Michael's for a craft for Pursy's first birthday party on Saturday. I had a fantastic scavenger hunt prepared for the kiddos, but as central Pennsylvania often does, my plans are doomed by the 90% chance of rain forecasted. So my new resourceful side packed up Pursy and took her to the craft store to find a stimulating and original craft idea for 11 children to do inside. I am wandering the aisles trying to choose whether I would be the "cool mom" if I let 4 year olds use paints and brushes or if I should take the safe stickers and washable markers route.
Pursy tolerated my indecision for roughly 27 seconds before deciding to test out her voice box volume control. She wants everything I am looking at and after picking up numerous dropped and/or flung items- I firmly tell her that she will either be content to HOLD the box of googly eyes or she must deal to simply sit in the front of the cart and find her contentment in Jesus.
My dearest, darling daughter grabs the front of my shirt with both hands and screams in my face at a very impressive decibel. At that moment, a woman walks around the aisle and comes over to us. She puts her hand on Pursy's head (yuk) and says to me "Honey, I think she needs something".
I was raised to be a smiler. I am brilliant at keeping peace because in most situations I can keep it together, swallow annoyances and save my irritation, criticism and anger for the car ride home. (Ask Grant who gets the short end of that stick) But in this moment, the first thing that came out of my mouth was (actually, with a smile) "Yes, Honey, she does need something. She needs to learn that she does not always get her own way".
The woman took her hand off Pursy's head and walked away without a word. Was I rude? Too blunt? Too honest? I prefer to think that I was simply showcasing what I have learned in almost 12 months of being Purslane's Mama. My daughter is not a wilting flower- she will let you know what she wants. I actually took a little sick pleasure in her hollering the remainder of our time in the store. Her birthday isn't until next week, but Purslane is officially 1.